


You're a Fool, Ron Weasley

by LadyKenz347



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fake Dating, Jealousy, Veela Mates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:43:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22850416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyKenz347/pseuds/LadyKenz347
Summary: The thing is, Ron Weasley was always full of good ideas. He had them in spades, one could say. His problem was quite nearly always the execution of said good ideas.
Relationships: Gabrielle Delacour/Ron Weasley
Comments: 6
Kudos: 28
Collections: Love Fest 2020





	You're a Fool, Ron Weasley

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Frumpologist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frumpologist/gifts).



> #LF2020 #TeamEros

PANSY 

“You want me to do what _exactly?”_ Pansy’s nose wrinkled as she stared back at the ginger-haired little twit. Surely… _surely_ he could not be asking such an asinine favor from her. 

“Listen, it’s just—“ He paused, dragging his thick hands over his face as he growled into his palms. “I need you to come to this stupid party with me. Alright?” 

Pansy’s eyes darted all around her, looking for the joke. “Why in the bloody hell would I do that?”

Narrowing his eyes into slits, Ron quickly deadpanned, “Because you owe me, Parkinson. Remember?” 

With a lip-curling sneer, Pansy was violently reminded of the night when she’d gotten herself into a bit of a mess with that idiot Cormac McLaggen. He’d gotten all handsy and forward and she was a bit too drunk to mutter the proper hexing charms in order to remove his bollocks from his body and so this dim-witted fool had stepped up and done it for her. Well… not the bollocks removing, but certainly saved her from his McLaggen’s meaty paws and possibly some very bad decisions. 

And then, in a fit of pure stupidity, she’d actually told the oaf that she owed him one. _Him._

“So I go to the party with you?”

“Looking pretty.” 

Pansy’s features withered. “As if there’s another option, Weasley.” Sweeping her thick hair from her shoulders she sniffed and tilted her chin into the air. “And you want to make your girlfriend jealous? Well, I can see why you’d come to me.” 

“Don’t get full of yourself, Parkinson. Gabrielle and I are—well, you see, it’s a bit of a strange situation. We’re mates.” 

Spit caught in the back of Pansy’s throat and she hacked and spat violently as she slammed her palm against her chest. When she’d regained her constitution, she eyed him narrowly. “The bitch is a Veela?”

“You knew that.” 

“I didn’t know you were so stupid as to ask me to help you make your Veela girlfriend jealous? Merlin, you ought to pay me for the hazard of speaking to you now.” 

“Don’t be obnoxious, Pansy,” Ron grumbled. “She’s won’t do anything. She’s just fighting the match because she’s a bit of a… well, she’s a modern witch.” 

“No,” Pansy said it without remorse; nothing was worth getting a Veela pissed off. Turning on her heel, she made to leave, only pausing when his desperate plea chased after her. 

_“Please._ I wouldn’t ask if I had another choice…” 

Pansy Parkinson was of the staunch belief that her heart had long since turned black and died. But when his pathetic little voice lilted through the air a hundred memories of her being an insufferable ass floated to the front of her mind. She had really been quite the jerk and when she turned to see his tear-filled eyes, she groaned. 

_“Fine!_ Just owl me when and I swear to hell if you let the witch so much as a harm a hair on my head I will have your ass Weasley.” Turning, she bared her teeth to no one at all and marched from the shop. “Fuck, I hate Gryffindors.” 

RON 

The thing is, Ron Weasley was always full of good ideas. He had them in spades, one could say. His problem was quite nearly always the execution of said good ideas. 

So, when Gabrielle Delacour had promptly declared him mate, snogged him silly in the garden of the Burrow, and then announced she had no intention of doing a single thing about it—something about her fate not being decided by who her mother was—he knew he had to do _something_. 

After all, not only was she a young and devastatingly beautiful witch, but he’d felt that static magic between them also. It was undeniable and enchanting, he didn’t want to be with her. No, it wasn’t something as trivial and ridiculous as that. He _needed_ to be with her. Needed her like fresh air and sunshine, craved her like chocolate truffles and a good lie in—both of which he’d most like to experience with her. 

Yes, Ron Weasley had gone and gotten himself completely head over heels in love. With a Veela. With an obstinate, feminist, beautiful, Veela that wanted nothing to do with him. Of all the luck…

He’d bought new dress robes, forest green with silk lapels and a bowtie that had taken him over twenty minutes to charm into perfection. He’d gotten his hair trimmed and wore his best cologne. Shined his shoes and cleaned his flat—just in case. 

So, with little to lose and much to gain, Ron Weasley marched through his Floo, arriving in a whirl of green flames and magic into Pansy’s flat. 

“Pansy?” Wiping the soot and ash from his immaculate robes he realized with a start he wasn’t the only one in the room. “Blaise?”

“You really should just charm your robes, you neanderthal. The soot won’t stick—any pureblood with an ounce of decorum knows that.” Blaise Zabini tilted his chin in the air, his upper lip curling _just so._ “I hear you’re taking my girl out for the night.” 

Gulping around the massive knot tangled in his vocal cords, Ron nodded, silent as a fool. 

Blaise regarded him carefully before shrugging. “Don’t get handsy and have her home by midnight.” 

Just then, Pansy emerged, her hair twisted at the nape of her neck with a few loose tendrils framing her heart-shaped face. When Ron had requested she attend, _and_ look pretty, Pansy had taken it seriously. For as much as he loathed the witch, she was stunning. Emerald silk robes that looked like something she had taken a pair of scissors to because there was no way Malkin’s was selling dresses that were cut like that. The slit that revealed her thigh went so high that he was quite sure his mother would faint upon seeing it and the delicate straps lent way to a plunging neckline. Around her neck was a gold snake, curling in on itself. 

“Don’t stand there and gawk, Weasley.” Pansy said with a smile. “You’re supposed to tell me I look pretty.” 

Ron’s eyes widened and his tongue felt fat and dry in his mouth. “You look _very_ pretty.” 

“Oi! What did I just say!” Blaise shouted. 

“Not to get handsy?”

“Yeah, well, don’t fucking look at her like that either, you dolt. Consider that the second rule.” Blaise was on his feet, crossing the flat and winding his arms around his witch, his hand drifting down to grab a fistful of her arse as he kissed her deeply. “Have fun,” he said quietly when their lips had parted and Pansy smiled up at him. 

“Not likely. I’ll be with the Weasel, after all.” 

_“HEY!”_

“Ugh, you’re so sensitive. Let’s go.” Pansy’s hand drifted from Blaise’s chest and she stepped up to the Floo, pulling her wand free and charming her dress before quickly stepping inside, waiting for him with an impatient tap of her foot. 

Ron looked down at his own robes, unsure how to charm them, but Blaise obliged with a disgruntled groan. Pulling his wand free, the Slytherin pointed it right at Ron’s chest and while for a splinter of a second he was quite sure he was about to be obliterated, Blaise cast a simple spell that shimmered over his robes. 

“Thanks,” Ron said quietly. “And thanks for letting me borrow your witch for a few hours.” 

“Don’t mention it.” Nodding, Ron turned for the Floo. “Wait, no really don’t mention it. I don’t want it getting around that my girlfriend is out with you. Got it?”

A laugh burst from Ron’s gut and he rolled his eyes, walking into the Floo and announcing their destination. 

GABRIELLE 

Weasley parties were always so droll. This one was no exception. Thankfully, Fleur had put her foot down and insisted that for such an occasion they actually go _out_ to a restaurant. 

The restaurant was chic and elegant, an entire backroom had been reserved and decorated with silver, gold, and black balloons and table dressings. A massive piece of parchment with _Congratulations William_ scrawled in elegant script. 

Her brother-in-law had landed himself a senior position at Gringotts. Truthfully, Gabrielle couldn’t understand the fuss, but to the Weasley’s, Fleur included, it was quite the accomplishment. Why on earth her sister would give up all she’d had going for her to stand barefoot in the kitchen with a swollen belly and a squelching baby, Gabby would never be sure. 

There was a world out there begging to be explored, there were lovers to kiss, and music to dance to. Gabrielle Delacour would be damned if some boy with red hair and a goofy grin would—

At the mouth of the room, Ron Weasley entered and everything in the universe halted. She’d known about her mate as soon as she’d come of age and seen him again after the birth of her niece. There would be no way of denying that intrinsic pull.

Every fiber of her being implored her to seal the bond between them but it wasn’t that easy. Bonding with him, _being_ with him, would mean that he would become the center of her universe. And she was still happily the center of her _own_ universe. 

  
  


But when he entered the room, all her reason left. Tonight, not only did he look ridiculously dashing in his dress robes, but rage flared violently under her skin as he noticed the witch on his arm. Her long, manicured nails left crescent marks in her palm as she turned white-knuckled at the sight. 

He was grinning, like the ridiculous fool he was, and Gabrielle was a woman possessed. Ron Weasley was _her_ mate. _Hers._

The fact that she’d not yet officially bonded with him made little difference where Gabby was concerned. Did she expect Ron Weasley to wait for her? Possibly. But she certainly didn’t expect him to prance around with a scantily clad tart at family affairs.

It was detestable. 

The witch moved with a certain amount of grace that must mean she had some type of proper upbringing. Her hips sashayed just right, her chin tilted in that aristocratic way that meant something in the right circles. 

Upon the sight of Ron’s hand coming behind Pansy to rest on her hip, his cheeks splitting with a happy grin, Gabrielle’s vision flared crimson. _The audacity._

Ron was busy greeting his friends and family and Gabrielle couldn’t help the feral feeling that spread under her skin; like she was an animal on the hunt. Her feet carried around the outskirts of the room, though she was only vaguely absent that she was moving. 

When his gaze flickered up, icy blue on icy blue, her breathing hitched and the primal need to mate with him flared to life. Jaw snapping shut, she fought it. She thought of Tuscany and China, of the waterfalls in South America and… and...

And nothing else mattered. It was him. 

Still, she remained rooted to the spot, her hands and jaw clenched tightly as he led the witch on his arm across the room and to where Gabrielle stood. 

“Gabby,” he said when he was close enough, dipping his head in that bashful way he did, his cheeks flushed to light pink. “How are you?”

“Bien.” She sniffed, tilting her jaw away from him. She wasn’t going to deign the intruder’s presence enough of her attention as to even inquire about her name. _She wasn’t._ But then the words began tumbling past her lips and she had little fight to stop them. “And who iz zis?”

“Pansy Parkinson,” the audacious little witch said, a smug smirk curling her painted lips. “Enchante.” 

Gabrielle’s lip curled but she said nothing else. 

“I work with Pansy—kind of. She’s a consultant.” 

“What on ze earth could she consult upon? How to wear practically nothing but still have your genitalia covered?” The insult was served glacially cold and Gabrielle awaited the crumbling of the mademoiselle’s Parkinson’s features. 

Impossibly, Pansy’s smirk widened to a grin and she took a small step forward. “You’ll find I’m far better at consulting how to get out of said clothing entirely. I’m quite the afficinado.”

Ronald began hacking and sputtering from her side and Gabby’s jaw fell open. Unintended magic flared to life, burning hot in her belly and spreading down her fingers and suddenly, without preamble, the blunt ends of Mademoiselle Parkinson’s hair began to smoke. 

It took a moment, just one, but Pansy was crying out wildly as though Gabby had set her entire person on fire—which she was well within her right to do, seeing as the bitch was with her man. 

“Oh fuck…” Ron’s eyes bulged into saucers as he met Pansy’s frantic shouting, the rest of the room now paying entirely too much attention to their encounter. 

The pair of twits began batting at her fringe, waving off the smoke as the tart rounded on Gabrielle. “Are you fucking crazy? Do you know how much I spend on a haircut!”

With a shrug, Gabrielle turned her chin away from the witch. It wasn’t her responsibility to ensure the little tart didn’t get herself set on fire.

“I’m leaving! I fulfilled my end of the deal and this crazy fucking witch set my hair on fire! We’re even!” Stomping her foot, Pansy Parkinson, reeled in a wide circle, promiscuous robes billowing in a silky wave behind her as she stormed from the restaurant. 

Ron shouted his apologies, only then turning on Gabby with a groan. “Gabby! You didn’t have to set her on fire.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Crossing her arms, she felt entirely out of sorts. She wasn’t supposed to care, wasn’t supposed to want him, but the magic swirling and pulsing inside her begged for him. “What did she zay? What _deal?”_

From the corner of her eye, Gabrielle caught Ron’s cheeks flushing bright red, his shoulders hunching as though he’d been caught at something. 

“I just… I thought _maybe_ if you saw me with her, you’d realize you wanted to be with me.” 

A gasp tore it’s way from Gabrielle’s lips as she rounded on her mate. _“You brought her here to make me jealous?”_ Her voice incredulous and her eyes dancing with the flames of old Veela magic. 

_“Well_ …” Ron sank further into himself. “I just… I’m crazy about you Gabrielle. And I know you don’t want me but I can’t help wanting you. I thought maybe—“

She bristled, lips folding into a reprimanding pout. Inside her was a volatile mix of anger and adoration; that this wizard would go to such lengths was ridiculous and stupid, but it was also incredibly endearing and the ice that had quickly formed around her heart softened. Sniffing, she turned back to him. 

“I like to travel and I don’t want to get married and start popping out babies anytime soon! I want to see the world before any of that and if you can’t—“ 

“I could travel,” he blurted, hope etching it’s way into his features as his fingers twitched for hers. “I like seeing things sometimes. I could… I could do that with you if you wanted.” 

She considered him carefully, her heart aching at the thought of leaving him yet again. Rolling her eyes, she acquiesced with a long-suffering sigh. “Fine. Then you’re my mate and I zwear if you zo much as look at another witch…” 

_“No!”_ He all but shouted, his fingers lacing with hers as he cradled her hand gently to his chest. “No other witches for me. Not ever.”

His goofy grin seemed to be permanently fixed on his face and she couldn’t help but melt for it. Of all the wizards… Ronald bloody Weasley. Curling her fingers in his lapel she dragged him forward and lifted onto her toes. “You’re a fool, Ron Weasley…” 

“Your fool, though.” Slanting his mouth over hers, Gabrielle felt the universe shift into its rightful place. Her mate was here and hers and Pansy Parkinson had singed hair and would think twice about coming around again. 

**_A/N: For my lovely Frumpologist! This was written for Love Fest in Fairest of the Rare and her prompt was Ron and Gabrielle and Fake Dating! I hope you enjoyed this bit of silliness!_ **

**_This is unbeta’d so please forgive my horrible grammar._ **

  
  
  



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